


Fall, Fall Away

by blindinglights



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s03e13 Anchors, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindinglights/pseuds/blindinglights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“When I have these dreams, I’m in this loop,” Stiles started. “I’ll wake up from a nightmare, go about my day, but then I’ll wake up again. It’ll keep going. And I don’t know if this is real. I don’t know if you’re actually real.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>“What do you do?” Derek asked.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“I scream myself awake,” Stiles replied quietly. “And I hope I’m actually awake.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall, Fall Away

**Author's Note:**

> So when I watched Anchors, I was hit with inspiration to write something. I was talking to a friend about what I was thinking of writing and then I was doing research about dreams and nightmares (this stuff is so interesting, seriously), and then I started writing it. One thing led to another, and I wrote almost 8k words of nightmare fic. There's temp character death, but nobody actually dies. A big thank you goes to [Laura](http://aeneapsych.tumblr.com/) for letting me spill to her all my ideas. Thanks to [bloominheather](http://bloominheather.tumblr.com/) for the quick beta. Title from a Twenty One Pilots song called Fall Away, which I listened to repeatedly while writing. (Along with Isle of Flightless Birds)
> 
> Oh, and I managed to finish this before tomorrow's episode _and_ finish my programming assignment on time! Go me. Seriously, I have a game timer, score and text for my HUD in UDK. I'm very proud of myself.

Derek looked like death when Stiles saw him. There were dark circles under Derek’s eyes that made him look sickly. Derek was lying on the couch in Scott’s house. Melissa was sitting next to him, a wet washcloth pressed to Derek’s forehead and a bottle of water on the floor next to them. 

“How is he?” Stiles asked. From where he was standing, he could see the steady rise and fall of Derek’s chest.

“He’ll live,” Scott said. “He’s already mostly healed. He’s just—“

“Tired?” Stiles finished for him, not keeping his eyes off of Derek. 

“Yeah,” Scott answered. “And my mom is worried, and I don’t think he’s used to it.”

“Sounds like her.” 

Derek stirred, making a noise of discomfort but didn’t wake up. Melissa made soft reassuring noises as she wet the cloth in the bowl beside her, squeezing it out before running it along his forehead again. She was being careful; running a hand through his hair like she hoped it’d soothe him into a deep, calm sleep. 

“Does she forget you’re all werewolves with super healing?” Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged. “I think she just loves taking care of people.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed softly. “I can see that.”

\--

Derek slept for two days. 

Stiles knew Derek was tortured, but he didn’t know any facts, like how long Derek was held captive for or why it happened in the first place. They all kept in contact, sporadic texts and emails to make sure each other were alive and well. Stiles and Derek emailed mostly, passing along funny articles and photos found on the Internet and Derek would text him random photos of his road trips. 

Stiles knew Cora stayed with a pack in New York, finishing up high school before she was going to start at NYU. She was happy there, but Stiles had no idea how Derek ended up trapped somewhere and fucking tortured to near-death. It wasn’t like Derek told him anything, or would at all, if he was in trouble. 

Peter being there with Derek didn’t make any sense either. 

When Derek finally woke up, Stiles was curled up on the sofa with a blanket pulled up near his face and the television on. Scott and Isaac were sitting on the floor nearest to Derek, fast asleep and snoring quietly. 

Derek stirred. Stiles stared at him silently. When Derek finally opened his eyes, he looked right at Stiles and asked, “Where am I?”

“Scott’s,” Stiles replied. “You were pretty out of it, dude. Is there anything you remember?” 

“Yeah,” Derek answered with. 

“Do you maybe want to fill us in on what happened?”

“No.”

“I think you should, because you were tortured. I think it’s important, you know.”

Derek visibly winced, as if he was recalling the memory of it, chained up wherever he was. Stiles wanted reach out, give Derek some comfort that he wasn’t there anymore and he had people who wanted him to be okay. 

“We have our own shit going on right now, but don’t think we won’t help you too,” Stiles added.

Derek looked up at that, raising his eyebrows in silent question. “What’s going on?”

“So you want me to fill you in on our shit, but you won’t tell us about yours? It doesn’t – _shouldn’t_ work like that,” Stiles said, a little loudly and Scott moved and swatted at the air. Like a puppy, Stiles thought. “If we talk, you need to talk. What if this nutjob comes back, or has other people, or whatever and it comes here and coupled with our current problems we have to deal with that, too?”

“I’ll take care of it myself,” Derek said. “You shouldn’t have to fight my battles for me.”

“Cut the crap, Derek,” Stiles said. “You wouldn’t be here right now if we didn’t care, if you weren’t considered _pack_. We wouldn’t have kept in contact with you guys when you and Cora left town if we didn’t care.” 

“Stiles,” Derek started to say, but it seemed like he knew it was a losing battle to argue with Stiles on the matter because he shut his mouth, looking away.

“You’re going to have to deal with it, because you’re not going anywhere for a while until everything settles down, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said. 

\--

Stiles and the Sherriff offered Derek a place to stay, since nobody thought sending Derek back to the loft he had lived at before was a good idea. Not with people out to get Derek. It was safer for him to stay with Stiles. 

There was one spare room left, and Stiles directed Derek there. Derek tossed his bag onto the bed and looked around the room. It was pretty bare, save for the few boxes, a bed that Stiles put fresh sheets on, and nightstand with a lamp sitting on it. Nobody had really used the room in years, not since his mother was alive. His dad mostly used it for storage now. 

“It’s not much,” Stiles said, shrugging. 

“It’s fine,” Derek said. “I don’t need a lot. This is enough.” 

“Do you want to order take-out?” Stiles asked. “We don’t have a lot in the house. I think that’s our only option.”

Derek nodded and then sat down on the bed, pulling his bag closer to him. Stiles wondered what all Derek had in it, where Derek’s car was now, still wanted answers he doubted he’d get anytime soon. 

“So, take-out,” Stiles spoke up again, when Derek hadn’t said a word yet. “What do you like? Or want. I mean, not a lot of options in Beacon Hills. We could order pizza.”

“Pizza’s fine,” Derek said. 

“We could order anything you like.”

Derek was rummaging around in his bag. “I like pizza, so go ahead and order that.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for my phone.”

“Um,” Stiles said eloquently.

“I told them when they were dragging me out to grab it. I need to call Cora.”

“Dude, you know, even if they didn’t grab it, that I have a phone which has Cora’s number, right?”

Derek ignored him and a few moments later he pulled out a phone that looked like it’d seen better days. The screen was still in perfect shape, but the rest had scratches. Derek looked up as he pressed what Stiles assumed was Cora’s number. Derek held it up to his ear and stared forward at the wall. There was worry evident in his features, and Stiles wondered if these people would be after Cora too. If she was in danger as well as the pack she was with now. 

“Cora, _Cora_ ,” Derek said, voice urgent but it held a certain soft tone to it that it hardly got. “I’m okay. I’m in Beacon Hills, staying with Stiles and his dad. I don’t know—“

Stiles backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him to let Derek have a few private moments. He was sure Derek was going to tell her everything, and he half-wanted to listen in, but he thought better of it. Derek deserved his privacy.

Stiles went downstairs and ordered pizza. 

\--

Stiles fell asleep slowly that night, half because he was afraid of what sleep would bring him and half because he knew Derek was sleeping a few doors away. 

\--

Stiles dreamed of vines reaching up and grabbing him, things that didn’t make sense but scared him. He ran down hallways that seemed to wind around for ages. He screamed for help, to see if anyone was out there.

There was no response back and Stiles kept running.

\--

Stiles woke up to the sound of something crashing somewhere outside his room. His head lifted, staring at his door as if it’d give him answers so he wouldn’t have to be the one to go searching out the noise. He knew he wasn’t the only one in the house anymore, but he didn’t hear Derek’s voice at all. He thought maybe Derek dropped something, but wasn’t going to make a fuss out of it, cleaning up the mess and hiding it from them.

Stiles looked back down at his paper he was working on, but the words weren’t going together anymore. A jumble of words stared up at him, daunting him and reminding him of everything fucked up in his life right now. He looked at his hand, watched as it shook. He crumbled his paper, tossing it into a corner of his room and pushed himself up.

Another crash sounded from outside his door, drawing his attention to it. “What’s Derek doing?” he asked himself quietly, curiosity getting the better of him.

But when he opened his bedroom door, all he could see was darkness and when he looked back, his bedroom was no longer there. He looked forward again, straight into darkness that seemed to surround him, suffocating him slowly. 

“Derek?” Stiles called out as he took a tentative step forward.

The darkness seemed to get worse, like it was a room with walls that were steadily moving in. Closing him in on all sides with no way out.

“Derek?” Stiles called out again, his voice with a hint of hysterics. “Come on, if you’re out there, just answer me, please.”

“Stiles,” Stiles heard, just faintly. 

“Where are you?”

“Stiles,” Derek rasped, sounding as if he was in pain.

“Come on, just tell me where you are!” Stiles yelled, picking up his pace. When he heard Derek yell out in pain, he started running, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Derek, please, where are you?” 

Stiles came to a startling halt, eyes wide as he stared down at Derek. Who had an arrow sticking out of his chest, blood soaking his shirt, his face gaunt and pale. He looked like death. 

“Derek, shit, are you okay?” Stiles asked, kneeling down in front of him, his hands reaching out slowly, tentatively. He felt scared and unsure what to do. “Derek, please, fucking answer me right now. Are you okay?”

“Wolfsbane,” Derek croaked. “Arrow, wolfsbane.” Derek coughed.

“Okay, you’re not okay, fuck,” Stiles ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends as he tried to figure out what he can do save Derek, who was obviously dying, and Stiles felt like he was going out of his mind. 

“Close the door,” Derek said then, his eyes unfocused. 

“What?” Stiles asked, eyes wide. 

“Stiles, close the door, you need to close the door.”

“No, fuck this, Derek there’s no door to close! Stop telling me to close a door!” Stiles yelled hysterically.

“Stiles, close the door,” Derek gritted out, finally focusing his attention on Stiles, like he could finally actually see him. “You need to close it.”

“Derek, stop, you’re dying, I need to help you, I can’t—“ Stiles was cut off by an arrow piercing Derek’s chest, Derek’s eyes flying wide, the light in them slowly dimming and Stiles.

Stiles screamed and screamed, until he felt his throat hurting. He screamed, his hands holding tight to the sides of his face, muttering about how it wasn’t real, this wasn’t fucking _real_. He screamed Derek’s name, screamed that he wanted it all to stop, that he wanted it to go _away_. 

Stiles woke up with a jolt, screaming and screaming. His dad was holding him tight, whispering reassurances in his hair that it was a dream, just a dream, Stiles. Stiles cried and cried, his body shaking with the heavy sobs. 

When Stiles looked up, Derek was in the doorway. Derek looked scared, worry evident in his face. Derek looked as if he had no idea what to do, how to help _this_. He looked helpless.

Stiles cried until his shaking started to subside, until all that was left were quiet hiccups and his throat was rubbed raw and the tears refused to fall. 

The entire time, Derek never left his spot at the doorway. 

\--

“Nightmares,” Stiles heard from behind him, and Stiles jumped. The pot he was washing in the sink fell out of his hands with a clatter.

Stiles turned around to see Derek.

“Losing my mind, actually,” Stiles said. 

“But you’re having nightmares,” Derek said again. 

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Stiles said with a shrug and then he went back to the dishes.

“What would you call it? You wake up screaming, you’re having a nightmare.”

“I’d call it losing my mind,” Stiles said. “Because I am. You don’t even know the half of it, Derek. You’ve been who knows where and I’ve been here, slowly going out of my freakin’ mind.”

“I’d know if you told me,” Derek said and Stiles shied away when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“What makes you think I should say anything when you won’t do the same? I told you, it doesn’t work that way.” Stiles set the dishes in his hands down again, shutting off the water and turned around to face Derek.

Derek was standing in front of him. He looked as tired and worn thin as Stiles felt. Stiles had questions on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to sit Derek down and demand all of the answers. He wanted Derek to stop hiding shit because he thought it’d make everyone else’s lives better. Derek needed to realize that life didn’t work that way; he couldn’t be some fucking martyr because he felt like everything that happened was his fault. 

“This isn’t your fault, you know,” Stiles found himself saying. “It was my choice to do the ice bath. I didn’t have any other options. I needed to save my dad. I couldn’t lose him, okay? I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Derek said.

“Kind of like what you did for Cora.”

“Yeah.”

“You gave up your alpha status to save her,” Stiles said with a soft smile. “That was great of you, giving up all of that power for your little sister.” 

“All I did was give up being an alpha, you’re still dealing with this. You should tell me what’s going on.”

“They’re just nightmares. It’s fine.”

“Last night, it didn’t seem like just nightmares.”

“They are, alright? And I’m fine, Derek. Now let me finish these dishes before my dad comes home. I promised him I would.”

Derek gave him a look, as if he didn’t believe a word that Stiles was saying. Stiles could barely believe himself, really. 

\--

That night, Stiles sat down on the couch to watch a movie with Derek. By the second movie, Stiles started to doze off on the couch. He tried to stay awake, to focus on the character on the television arguing and fighting.

He startled when he heard the front door bang open. When he looked at Derek for help, to see if Derek can fill him in on who it could be, if they need to run for their lives, Derek’s no longer sitting beside him.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles called out into the room. 

When there was no answer, he got up off the couch cautiously. He took a few steps toward where the sound came from to see the front door wide open but no sign of anyone at all. 

“Derek?” Stiles called out again. He walked a bit faster toward the front door until he was standing out on the front steps, staring out into darkness.

On the front lawn, there stood Derek. Somebody was behind him. Stiles could see their looming shadow. And then Derek made a sound, his eyes flying wide, scared. Stiles reached out, words caught in his throat. Derek made another sound as the figure slowly picked him up into the air, blood soaking his shirt and falling out of his mouth steadily. Derek was impaled on claws, and Stiles didn’t have anything to save him with. 

“Stiles, run,” Derek said wetly. “Go back inside and close the door.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Stiles said, because Derek was dying, he couldn’t leave him here. 

There was a laugh from whoever was holding Derek up and it sent chills down Stiles’ spine. 

“You can’t save him, Stiles,” the voice said. It sounded familiar, Stiles knew who it was, but he couldn’t place a proper name. It was like his mind had gone blank. “You can’t have him. It’s too late.”

The figure dropped Derek to the ground like he weighed nothing. The figure was cast in darkness and Stiles couldn’t make out the face. Stiles wanted to keep his eyes focused on the figure to make sure it wouldn’t come after him too, but he found himself looking down at Derek’s body, looking at the slow rise and fall of Derek’s chest. 

Derek was covered in blood and dying again, and everything felt like some sick déjà vu. 

When Stiles looked up, the figure was gone and all that was left was Derek lying on the ground. Stiles rushed forward, hands reaching out and scrabbling to check to see how Derek was. The wounds weren’t healing.

Stiles felt panic steadily rising. He slapped Derek’s face and begged him to just _wake up_ , please wake up.

“Go inside,” Derek said, finally, voice barely above a whisper. 

“No, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you out here to bleed to death. You’re not even healing. _Why_ aren’t you healing?” 

“Can’t,” Derek managed out.

“What do you mean _can’t_?”

“I can’t heal. Go inside, Stiles, just go inside and close the door.”

“You need to stop, I’m not going anywhere!” 

When Derek’s body started going limper, the light diming in Derek’s eyes, Stiles started shaking him and begging him to stay awake. 

“You can’t do this, Derek. Come on, don’t do this to me, hang in there, buddy. Come on, please,” Stiles begged.

Nothing worked. Stiles screamed. 

\--

Stiles awoke screaming, thrashing on the bed. There was somebody holding him to their chest and whispering things against his hair, but it wasn’t his dad. Stiles’ hands found purchase on strong arms and he held on tightly. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked once he’d found his voice. His words came out scratchy, his voice overused and worn thin from the screaming. 

“It’s okay, shhh,” Derek said, rocking him back and forth. “You’re awake, you’re here, it’s okay.”

“Derek,” Stiles tried again, his hand clenching in Derek’s shirt. “Where’s my dad?”

“Working,” Derek replied, and his voice was still uncharacteristically soft. 

“Oh,” Stiles said, because he forgot his dad was doing the night shift tonight. “Right, yeah.”

“He’ll be home in the morning.”

Stiles pulled away from Derek and lay down beside him. He thought Derek was going to leave and Stiles could say thanks for coming to help him, but Derek lay down next to him.

Stiles stared, shock written all over his face.

“Are you staying here?” Stiles asked.

Derek answered by pulling him close and saying, “You’re pack. I’m not leaving you when you’re still scared.”

“Pack, yeah,” Stiles said as he rested his head against Derek’s chest. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Derek asked.

Stiles thought about it. On one hand, he wasn’t sure about this Derek, so easy to comfort him like this. And then he thought about the safety he felt, how comfortable Derek’s chest surprisingly was, and his eyes closed as he slowly drifted back to sleep.

\--

“I don’t know what’s real,” Stiles said one morning.

Derek looked up from his book he was reading. Derek raised his eyebrows, but remained quiet. It was as if he was waiting for Stiles to continue talking, instead of demanding question after question.

It made Stiles feel better.

“When I have these dreams, I’m in this loop,” Stiles started. “I’ll wake up from a nightmare, go about my day, but then I’ll wake up again. It’ll keep going. And I don’t know if this is real. I don’t know if you’re actually real.”

“What do you do?” Derek asked.

“I scream myself awake,” Stiles replied quietly. “And I hope I’m actually awake.”

\--

“My dreams now feature Derek,” Stiles said to Scott as they made their way to first period. 

“Derek?” Scott asked, surprised. 

Stiles tossed his bag next to a desk, sitting down with a shrug. “Yeah, and each time he’s dying.” 

“Dying?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, dude, _dying_. Like arrow to chest that’s drenched in wolfsbane. Or someone claws out his chest. And there’s nothing I can do. Every time, there’s nothing I can do. And I can’t--” Stiles sighed, burying his face in his hands, heels rubbing at his eyes. God, he’s so _tired_. “I can’t deal with it.”

“Have you told him?” 

Stiles looked up at that. “No, I don’t even know what to say. Hey, I’m having nightmares of you dying?”

“Yeah, basically,” Scott said.

“I don’t know.”

“Anything else? How’s he doing? I should pay him a visit.”

“Yeah, O’ Alpha, you should.”

Scott made a face. “How’s everything going besides the nightmares of Derek?”

“Good, Derek helps around the house, he’s quiet a lot of the time.”

“There’s something else.”

Stiles sighed. “Okay, so the first night he was there I woke him up screaming. My dad came to help. The next night my dad had to work, so it was Derek who was comforting me. He has questions and I don’t know how to answer them.”

“That’s it?” Scott asked, just as the teacher was finally getting into the room.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the teacher telling the class to pay attention.

\--

“I can stay in your room with you,” Derek said over dinner. “If it’d help.”

Stiles looked up from his plate, his fork inches from his mouth. “You seriously don’t have to do that, dude. It’s fine. I’m—“ Stiles hesitated, setting his fork down. “I’m fine.”

“You’re pack,” Derek simply said, as if that was all the answer anyone needed. 

“I don’t want to disturb you,” Stiles said, even though he was sure his nightly wake up screaming woke Derek up enough. It probably woke up the entire neighborhood. 

“You won’t,” Derek said. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Derek,” Stiles started, but didn’t know what to fucking say. He didn’t know how to react to this Derek at all. He was starting to think that this Derek right here wasn’t real, maybe he was still dreaming. “You’re so nice, what happened to the angry, stop talking because I’m the scary big, bad wolf? Is this real? Are you real? I mean, seriously, is this happening? You openly being nice? Tell me, Derek.”

“It’s real, you’re not asleep,” Derek said. 

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked. “Are you serious, because I don’t know anymore.”

Derek reached out, grabbing a hold of Stiles’ hand. He squeezed tightly and said, “Real. It’s _real_.” Derek squeezed his hand again, his thumb rubbing circles where Stiles’ pulse laid. “You said we’re pack, and I’m going to help take care of pack.” 

Stiles met Derek’s eyes. “You really don’t have to stay in my room. You can hear me just fine from yours.”

“I was just offering,” Derek said. 

“Yeah. I know. I’m going to go do homework. TV is all yours, dude.” 

Stiles put his plate in the sink, ran water over it, and then went upstairs. 

\--

It was raining and Stiles couldn’t see anyone around every way he looked. “Hey! Is anyone out there?”

It wasn’t raining minutes ago, but of course his shitty luck shows itself again and in the middle of the forest. He couldn’t even tell if this was Beacon Hills anymore.

“Seriously, if anyone is there, it’d be really great if you had an umbrella.”

There was no response. Stiles started walking.

\--

The forest ended after what felt like forever, bleeding into the dark halls of Beacon Hills high. He could see the doors to the locker room open. The entire atmosphere reminded him of when Peter was alpha and they all were in the high school, hiding away from him while they all stayed and plotted how to get out safely. 

Stiles walked towards the door, his steps slow and careful. The entire hall was quiet. 

“Hello?” Stiles called out, his voice echoing. 

There was no response and he peered into the locker room, but it was too dark to see. 

“Is there anyone in here?” he asked. “Well, isn’t this just creepy.”

Stiles walked into the locker room, looking around everywhere. There was nothing, at least nothing he could actually see. The darkness seemed to envelop the room like a blanket, and it felt suffocating. 

“Stiles, what are you doing here?”

Stiles jumped, clutching his chest. He spun around to see glowing blue eyes in a corner of the room.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Stiles asked. “Don’t be a creeper wolf and hide in the corner.”

Derek stepped forward until the little bit of moonlight was shinning on, showing his face. “What’re you doing here? It’s dangerous here.”

“You know, I could actually ask you the same question because this is the high school. Why are _you_ here?”

“Something happened, I chased something here,” Derek said. “Which means you should leave. I can’t protect you here. You need to go and close the door.”

“What is with you always telling me to close doors?”

“Because it’s important. You need to close the door. You need to leave, right now, Stiles.”

“How about you give me answers and I stay right here and help you? I’m not leaving you behind!”

“Stiles,” Derek said warningly, letting out his claws. “Move out of the way. _Now_.”

Before Stiles could even listen to him, something pushed him out of the way, barreling toward Derek. Derek growled dangerously, but whatever it was didn’t give him a chance to do much of anything, their claws ripping through Derek’s shirt, ripping out his throat.

Stiles watched Derek fall to the ground, lifeless, and he screamed. 

\--

Stiles woke up to Derek’s arms around him, Derek’s face pressed against the top of his head and reassuring words leaving Derek’s mouth. Stiles screamed until he felt too exhausted and Derek’s words calmed him enough.

“I’m tired of this, I want it to go away, Derek, please I want it to go away,” Stiles sobbed into Derek’s shirt. 

“Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?” Derek asked, almost cautiously. 

“Always different, every time.” Except with the whole door thing, that Deaton unhelpfully explained to him. It wasn’t like Stiles knew what to do with it or how to even close it. “I’m still in a dream within a dream.”

“You’re awake now,” Derek assured him.

“You’re holding me, are you sure I’m awake?” Stiles asked, because Derek before wouldn’t do this. He wanted to make sense of this Derek.

“Trust me, you’re awake,” Derek said.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “I’ll trust you.”

“I just heard your dad’s car pull up,” Derek said after a moment. “Would you like me to go get him for you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, moving away from Derek and climbing off the bed. 

\--

“So are you ever going to fill us in on the whole torture thing?” Stiles asked.

“Not right now,” Derek answered as he stripped off his sweaty t-shirt and threw it into the dirty laundry.

“You’re helping with laundry,” Stiles said, trying his best not to look at Derek’s bare chest, the way the sweat trickled down—

“I don’t mind helping,” Derek said, and Stiles’ eyes snapped up to meet Derek’s. Which looked like Derek caught him staring. Stiles felt his face heat up. 

“So when are you telling us?” Stiles asked, trying to move the conversation back.

“Not right now,” Derek repeated his earlier words. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes, “You need to talk to us, not hide these things. Don’t hide behind everything and let us help you.”

“Let me help you,” Derek shot back.

“You can’t help me, Derek. You can’t fix any of this. They’re nightmares. How can you fix that?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“See? _See_? You can’t. Not even Deaton is sure how to help me. He says to close the door, that I opened it when I did what I did for my dad, but I don’t know how to close it! I’m losing my mind, Derek, I can’t—“ Stiles heaved a deep breath, letting it out in a big gust. “I can’t handle it. When I don’t know what’s real or not, I can’t handle feeling like that.” 

Derek just looked at him, a war of emotions on his face, something other than a glare fixed firmly on Stiles and Stiles. He didn’t know what to do with that, let alone what to even _think_. Derek caring, Derek treating him like pack and like he felt his need to protect Stiles from the unnecessary evils of the dark recesses of his own mind even though it was _impossible_. 

Stiles wasn’t even fully aware of it when Derek pulled him close, holding him tightly as if he thought the mere touch would help calm Stiles’ deepest fears. Stiles rubbed his face against the soft cotton of Derek’s shirt and realized with a soft hiccup of breath that he was crying and Derek, of all people, was letting him cry on his shoulder.

\--

Derek was adamant on staying in Stiles’ room. Stiles wanted to keep telling him that it wasn’t necessary, that it didn’t really matter where Derek chose to sleep, his screams would alert him anyway. But Derek wouldn’t budge on the matter, and when it came to Stiles going to sleep, Derek took his blankets and pillow from the other room and tossed them onto the floor in a makeshift nest. 

Stiles lingered in the doorway to the bathroom, his toothbrush in hand as he watched Derek make his way to Stiles’ room. 

“You know, sleeping on the floor isn’t exactly comfortable,” Stiles reminded him.

Derek paused at the doorway to the room, leveling Stiles with his best _‘I don’t care’_ expression. Derek raised his eyebrows, as if to challenge Stiles to say anything else. “I don’t care. You need me, so I’m staying in here with you. I’ll live.”

“You’re kind of ridiculous,” Stiles said before he went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. 

He made his way back to his room, staring down at Derek who was now lying in his mess of blankets. There was a book beside Derek, a title that Stiles couldn’t read. 

\--

Stiles was in the woods again. It was dusk, the sun almost faded behind the mask of trees and Stiles could barely make out where to step without the aid of a flashlight. He could hear howling in the distance and so he tried to use that to help aid him through the darkening woods. 

“Hello?” Stiles called out, curious if it was a werewolf and hoping that if it was, it was someone he knew. 

Another howl erupted in the distance, but this time it sounded almost sad and hurt, as if they were calling out for help. Stiles picked up his pace, trying to find the source of the noise. He walked and walked, stumbling only a few times over overgrown weeds and roots. 

He walked until he saw a figure slumped over against a large tree. The sun had finally set over the horizon, drenching the woods in total darkness. The only light was the helpful glow of the full moon above. 

“Hey, are you okay, buddy?” Stiles asked cautiously, squinting in hopes to make out who it was. 

“Stiles, run,” and that was _Derek_.

“Yeah, no, it looks like you’re hurt, Derek. I’m sorry but I’m not going to just leave you here.” Stiles took a few steps toward Derek. 

Derek finally looked up, his blue eyes glowing in the dark. It looked almost eerie, but Stiles didn’t feel threatened by it. If anything, he felt scared for the state Derek was most likely in.

“Are you hurt?” Derek didn’t say anything, and Stiles sighed. “Seriously Derek, that’s an important question there and I think you should answer me.”

“ _Go_ ,” Derek urged just as Stiles heard a growl from somewhere close. Stiles ignored him in favor of looking at where the sound came from, only to see red eyes staring right at them. “Stiles, go, _now_.”

Stiles wanted to yell at Derek that he wasn’t leaving him, he didn’t want to leave him, but the words were caught in his throat as the figure jumped out of the shadows and attacked Derek. And Derek just took it as if he no longer had the fight in him to protect himself. 

“Not again. No, come on, wake up, wake up, _WAKE UP_!” 

\--

Stiles woke up screaming, Derek’s arms wrapped around him from behind. Stiles thrashed around, begging for everything to go away and leave him be and just stop with the nightmares. He couldn’t take them anymore, couldn’t take seeing Derek lying helpless and dying on the ground. 

“Come on, Stiles, I’m right here,” Derek said against the back of his neck, his breath warm. “I’m right here, you’re safe.”

“I don’t think I am, Derek. I really don’t know what to believe anymore.” 

Derek pressed his face against Stiles’ back. He was a comforting presence, warm and Stiles felt safe there. “What are your nightmares about?”

“I told you already.”

“You didn’t. Not the whole truth.”

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles wanted to twist around in Derek’s grasp until he was facing him, but he remained still, staring at his blank wall and waiting for Derek’s reply. 

“Because, I hate seeing you like this,” Derek said. “I want to help.”

“I told you. You can’t fix this. I’m un-fixable. I feel like I’m trapped. What if it doesn’t stop?” 

Stiles felt the ghost of a kiss against the back of his neck that sent shivers down his spine. He didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t know anything anymore, not this Derek, not of his nightmares, not of any of their problems. He felt lost.

“You keep fighting, Stiles, and you don’t ever give up.” 

\--

“I don’t know how to fight it,” Stiles said over breakfast the next morning. He had his feet tucked under him, blanket draped over half of him, and Saturday morning cartoons on the television.

“You’ll find a way,” Derek said confidently. “You always do.”

“I think this is different. I don’t know what I’m doing. If I don’t know what’s real, how do I know what I’m doing enough to get out of it?”

Derek didn’t have a response to that but to reach over and grab Stiles’ hand. Stiles abandoned his breakfast and the television. Instead he kept his eyes on Derek’s hand laying over top his and the way Derek held it, his grip firm and comforting all in one.

\--

The loft was dark save for the light of the moon streaming in through the big, open windows. Stiles could see Derek’s bed, the couch that sat off to the side near the winding staircase, but he couldn’t see anyone at all. 

Stiles started walking toward the bed, looking around carefully. That’s when he noticed Derek sitting on it, hunched over as if he was in pain. Stiles walked faster until was standing in front of Derek. He dropped to his knees, peering up at him worriedly. Derek looked worse for wear, deep gashes in his chest and blood everywhere. Stiles’ eyes flitted across his body, surveying just how injured he was. Most of the injuries were on his chest and face, and the wounds seemed to be healing sluggishly, if not at all. 

“Derek, shit, you’re in bad shape. You with me, buddy?” Stiles cupped Derek’s face, directing him to look him in the eyes. Derek’s eyes were unfocused, but he at least looked like he could recognize Stiles.

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” Derek asked gruffly. 

“I don’t know, Derek, checking to see if you’re not here dying? You don’t look so good, dude.”

Derek snorted, shoving Stiles’ hands away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not leaving you here. What even happened? I thought we had agreed you’d stay with my dad and I. This is kind of what we were afraid of if you came back here.”

“Had to,” Derek gritted out, before coughing out blood. It was black and Stiles looked at him in alarm.

“Dude, seriously, stop having this ‘I must save everyone, because I blame myself and I’m a stupid idiot’ bullshit stuck in your head, because it’s getting old. Sometimes you need to take a step back and put blame where it actually belongs.”

“I had to. People were in danger, I had to help them.”

“Hunters? Derek, were people in trouble from hunters? Be honest with me here.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek breathed out, and his voice didn’t sound right. “You need to leave, close the door, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t know why until it was too late. Derek slumped over, falling onto Stiles and Stiles screamed at the feel of Derek lifeless against him.

\--

Stiles woke up in the middle of the woods, sitting on the ground and trees looming all around him in the night. Stiles grabbed fistfuls of leaves and dirt, feeling frustrated and scared out of his mind.

There were sounds coming from close by but Stiles couldn’t make out exactly what they were. He stood up and started heading toward the sound, his heart beating fast in his chest and his mind screaming at him about how this was a bad idea. 

When he reached a clearing, blinding lights surrounding him, he saw Derek lying in the middle of it. Derek wasn’t moving and Stiles didn’t waste time running over to him, not even caring if there was any danger.

Stiles only made it halfway until he found himself unable to move. He was rooted in the spot as he stared helplessly at Derek. Derek looked up, his expression frightened. There was something crouched behind Derek, but the lights were too bright, obscuring the form. 

Derek reached out toward Stiles. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I’m sorry.”

“No, shut up, Derek. You need to get up and run, because there’s something behind you! Don’t be an idiot!” 

Stiles reached out, tried to run toward Derek but nothing was working. He couldn’t move and it was too late for Derek to do much of anything at all.

Stiles screamed.

\--

Stiles woke up screaming. He kept his eyes closed and just screamed until he couldn’t breathe or think anymore, until his throat was rubbed so raw he doubted he could speak again. 

When he opened them up it was to see he was back in Scott’s living room. The television was on, volume turned down low. He looked around to see Scott, Isaac and Derek looking at him in alarm, their eyes glowing in the low light of the room. Derek was crouched next to him. He looked spooked and worried, his hands left outstretched toward Stiles in an aborted attempt to grab ahold of him.

Derek looked the same way he did the first time Derek woke up in Scott’s living room. He looked tired with bags under his eyes.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Stiles said, looking between them frantically. “This doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

Stiles tried to get up, to scramble away from all of this, to get to a mirror so he could stare at his reflection and see what stared back him. Derek pushed him down against the couch when Stiles started to get up. Stiles thrashed, trying to brush off Derek’s strong hold on him, wanting to get away.

Nothing made _sense_ and Stiles felt like what was left of his sanity was slowly draining away, leaving him a mess and shaking. 

“Stiles, _Stiles_ ,” Derek urged. “Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

“No, no, no, no,” Stiles muttered. “You woke up here already. The others were asleep then. You went to stay at my house! This isn’t real. Derek no, this isn’t real. You promised me before that I was awake.”

“Stiles, it’s okay,” Derek assured softly, reaching out to grab ahold of Stiles’ hand. Stiles jerked away, his eyes wide and fearful.

“No, it’s really not okay. I’m losing my fucking mind here.”

From the corner of his eye he could see Scott’s mom looking scared out of her mind, Isaac whispering something to her, and Scott looking worried and scared himself. Stiles didn’t know what the fuck to do. He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes, tried to focus himself enough to stop the shaking and slow his breathing down enough so he could actually think. 

“Wake up, Stiles,” Derek said, which didn’t make any sense.

Stiles pulled his hands away to look at Derek. “What?” Stiles asked, confused. “What are you talking about? You said I was awake!”

“Stay awake,” Derek said and Stiles turned to look at Scott and Isaac. 

“Stiles, come on,” Scott said urgently, his eyes pleading. 

“What do you want me to do?” Stiles asked, bordering on hysterics. “You said I was awake. What do you want me to do? Wake up?”

Stiles felt bewildered. He looked at each of them and then at the room that looked exactly the same way it did before. The television was even playing the same movie and the same scene he remembered it playing the first time Derek woke up on the couch. 

“This isn’t real,” Stiles told them. “This isn’t real. I need to wake up. Wake up, Stiles. Wake up. Come on, just wake up, Stiles.”

 _Wake up, Stiles!_

\--

Stiles woke up with a gasp. His eyes flew wide open to see white walls surrounding him and the sound of beeping coming from beside him. Stiles panicked, his hands scrabbling to find purchase on the bed and the IV sticking out of his arm. The beeping grew quicker, mapping out his fast heartbeat as it climbed with his growing panic.

A hand grabbed a hold of him a moment later, stilling him. Looking to his left, Stiles saw Derek.

“Careful or you’ll pull out your IV,” Derek warned. 

“What happened?” Stiles asked, because he couldn't remember anything. "Why am I here?"

“You were in a car accident, you’ve been in the hospital for almost four weeks.” Stiles heard the scrape of a chair against the tile as Derek pulled his chair closer to Stiles’ bed. Derek looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

“Four weeks?” 

“You’ve been in a coma, Stiles. We didn’t know if you’d make it. We hoped, but the doctors—“ Derek stopped short, looking up at the door. Stiles turned to look, seeing Melissa peering in with hopeful, tearful eyes. She walked away, and Stiles turned back to Derek. “I’ve been on watch duty since last night. We’ve been taking turns.”

“I’ve been in a coma for four weeks?” Stiles asked, feeling the panic start to rise again. Four weeks, that’s a really long fucking time to be out. “My dad, Derek, where’s my dad? Did everything work out? Is he safe?”

“Easy,” Derek said gently, lacing his hand in Stiles’, bringing Stiles’ attention back to him. “Your dad is fine. He’s working right now.”

“Scott? Lydia? Allison? Isaac?”

“At school. They’re all fine. Everything is fine.”

Stiles tugged Derek closer, tried to at least, but Derek didn’t budge. Derek gave him a questioning look and Stiles said, “Just, _please_.” His voice held a hint of panic, and Derek looked like he didn’t want Stiles to panic anymore. Derek slowly got into the bed, careful of all the wires. “I just want to know you’re real, I need to know you’re real, please, Derek.” 

When he felt Derek’s hand brush against his face, Stiles bit back a sob, sucking in a ragged breath. “Hey, shh, I’m real, Stiles. It’s okay. I’m real. I promise.”

Stiles hid his face against Derek’s chest. “I dreamed you died, I always did but I’d wake up and you’d be there because you came back and you stayed at my house and I’d wake up screaming from one of my nightmares and you’d always be there to help. I didn’t know if I was awake or what was real. Every time, I didn’t know, and I felt like I was losing my mind.”

“I’m real, Stiles, this is all real. We stayed here by your side, wishing and hoping you’d wake up.”

Picking up his head to look at Derek again, he asked, “That was you telling me to wake up, wasn’t it?”

“That was all of us.” Derek had an arm loosely around Stiles’ waist, holding him close but still careful. Stiles could feel where the IV was stuck in his arm, tugging every time Stiles moved too much, and it bordered on painful. 

All the same, Stiles still wanted to know that all of this was real; that he was really stuck in the hospital hooked up to machines and Derek was really lying in the hospital bed with him. 

Derek was looking at him steadily, his eyes searching as if he was trying to make sure for himself that Stiles was really alive and awake in front of him. 

Stiles leaned forward and captured Derek’s lips in a chaste kiss. When Derek’s hand came up to cup the side of his face, kissing Stiles back, Stiles felt all of the fear and panic drain out of him, quickly replaced by relief.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [tumblr and say hi!](http://darkenednights.tumblr.com)


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